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Outside, the world waits with all its dangers. But for now, in this shabby motel room with its flickering neon light filtering through threadbare curtains, we’ve found a moment of peace. A moment that feels, against all odds, like coming home.

26

CALLAHAN

Morning comes on the back of a pale grey dawn, taking its time before the sun makes an appearance, the light coming through the thin motel curtains and painting the dingy room in swatches of gold. Lena is asleep beside me, her red hair spilling across the pillow like liquid fire, her face peaceful in a way it rarely is when she’s awake. I watch the slow rise and fall of her chest, marveling at how someone so powerful can appear so vulnerable in sleep.

Last night changed something between us. The blood exchange, the intimacy that followed—it forged a connection I can feel humming beneath my skin like a current. Even now, hours later, I swear I can sense her emotions, catch fragments of her dreams like whispers just beyond hearing.

I reach out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She stirs at my touch, her deep brown eyes fluttering open. For a moment, she seems disoriented, then her gaze finds mine and she smiles—a genuine smile that transforms her face with a softness few ever see. It makes my heart stutter.

“Morning,” she murmurs, voice husky with sleep.

“Morning, kitten,” I reply, letting my fingers trace the curve of her shoulder. “Sleep well?”

She stretches, catlike and graceful. “Better than I have in a long time.” She rolls toward me, propping herself on one elbow. “You?”

“Surprisingly, yes.” It’s true—for the first time since my transition began, I slept without nightmares, without the disorienting sensation of my vampire side taking over, without the fear that it might. Something about last night—the blood exchange, perhaps—has quieted the struggle between my dual natures.

Lena seems to read my thoughts. “Integration,” she says, her hand coming to rest over my heart. “The blood probably helps.”

“Is that normal?” I ask. “This…connection I can feel?”

She shakes her head slightly. “Not always. Blood sharing between vampires is intimate, yes, but…” Her delicate fingers swirl on my chest. “This feels strong. Maybe because you’re transitioning. Maybe because of your bloodline, whatever that may be.” A pause. “Or maybe it’s just…us.”

The implication hangs in the air between us, neither of us willing to name it yet. The idea of doing so scares me to death. Instead, I draw her closer, my lips finding hers in a kiss that starts gentle but quickly deepens. She responds eagerly, her body molding against mine with familiar heat.

Time becomes irrelevant as we lose ourselves in each other again, exploring with hands and mouths, still learning each other’s bodies. I discover a spot at the base of her throat that makes her arch beneath me when I graze it with my teeth. She finds a place along my V of my hips that sends shudders through my entire body when she traces it with her tongue.

Each touch feels amplified, electric—vampire senses making every sensation sharper, more intense. But beyond the physical, there’s something more profound happening between us. Witheach kiss, each caress, the barrier between us thins, allowing emotions to flow freely where words might fail.

When we finally come together, it’s with a synchronicity that feels almost supernatural. I can sense her pleasure as if it were my own, feel the building crescendo within her that mirrors my own approaching release. When she calls my name—my first name, the sound of it on her lips pushes me over the edge, her climax following seconds after mine.

We lie tangled together afterward, neither speaking nor needing to. The connection between us pulses with contentment, with a rightness I’ve never felt before—not with Catherine, not with anyone.

The thought should bring guilt, but doesn’t. Catherine was part of my human life, precious and irreplaceable. But this—this belongs to what I am now, what I’m becoming. A separate life, not lesser or greater, just different.

“What are you thinking?” Lena asks, her head resting on my chest.

“That I’ve never felt this way before,” I admit, the honesty easier than I expected. “This connected to someone.”

Her fingers trace my collarbone. “It’s the blood sharing. It creates bonds.”

“No,” I say, tilting her chin up to meet my eyes. “It’s more than that. It’s you, Lena.”

A vulnerability crosses her face, there and gone so quickly I might have missed it. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Callahan. You’re still new to this world, to what you are.”

“I may be new to being vampire,” I acknowledge, “but I know myself. This isn’t confusion or gratitude speaking.” I cup her face in my hand. “This is real. We, us? It’s all real.”

She doesn’t answer, but the way she turns her face into my palm, the soft kiss she places there, tells me she feels it too, even if she’s not ready to admit it.

We spend most of the morning and afternoon in that dingy room, fucking, dozing, talking in quiet voices about everything and nothing. She tells me about her childhood in Salem, Oregon, as a single child with a penchant for horseback riding and swing dancing. I share stories from my boxing days, my time in Military Intelligence during the war, careful anecdotes about my life with Catherine that don’t feel like betrayals to either woman.

It's a stolen day, a pause between dangers. Tonight we’ll go to San Pedro. We’ll continue the hunt. Today belongs to us alone.

Around midday, Lena slips from bed, wrapping herself in the threadbare sheet as she reaches for the telephone. “I should check in with Abe again,” she explains. “Let him know we’re still okay and on for tonight.”

I listen to her side of the conversation, able to hear Abe’s responses through the receiver with my enhanced hearing. Yesterday she filled him in on our encounter with Konstantin, the discovery of the matchbook, our plan to investigate the club tonight, plus everything that Katya and Tatiana Ivanov got up to. Well, noteverything.